


Moving Day

by DualWieldingCousland (DualWieldingMama)



Series: Starting Over [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-08 15:19:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4310247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DualWieldingMama/pseuds/DualWieldingCousland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Regan's moving into a new apartment after her parents were murdered, trying to move on with her life.  Who she meets there might just give her the help she needs, even if she doesn't want to admit she needs it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moving Day

**Author's Note:**

> Just a stupid idea that wouldn't leave me alone - AU, set in more modern-ish times. There will likely be references to modern movies & musicians, if I decide to continue this. I'm sure, if I add more to it, there will be references to others in the Dragon Age Universe. Just not really sure I want to play in the AU sandbox right now.

                “Balls!”

                Alistair glanced at the door to his apartment, wondering what was going on. He’d been hearing noises for the better part of an hour and none sounded particularly pleasant. At first, he figured someone was moving into the apartment down the hall; it has been vacant for some time now. But he never heard more than one voice – no one asking for directions or where something went. Surely, if anyone _was_ moving in, they wouldn’t be doing so alone, right?

 

                “Maker’s ass!”

                This time, the curse was accompanied by a muffled thunk – something heavy being dropped, perhaps? He raised a brow, thought about at least peeking out of the door’s peephole. But that would require he stop his game, and this was going to be his last day he could just relax for the week, and he wanted to enjoy it.

 

                “Andraste’s frilly knickers!”

                There was another thunk followed by a string of expletives that made him blush. Whoever was out there had _quite_ the vocabulary, and wasn’t afraid to use it. They had to be close to being done, right? It’d been a couple hours now.

 

                “Oh, for the love of ….”

                He was getting too curious. His mind was no longer on his game, evidenced by the total lack of concern when his character plummeted off a cliff. “I’ll just take a quick peek,” he told himself. Pushing up from the chair, he padded over to the door and peered out the spy hole.

                “Andraste’s flaming balls!”

                He watched as a bookcase passed his door, held by fingers with chipped polish. He couldn’t get a good look; the peephole gave everything a kind of warped appearance. Surely it was just his imagination, right? He turned from the door, telling himself he didn’t need to get involved. No one would be crazy enough to move in all by themselves, right?

 

                He shuffled into his small kitchen to grab a soda, trying to remember when he last saved the game. He was pretty sure he was going to have a _lot_ of work to redo. “Serves me right for being nosy,” he grumbled, taking a seat. He was just getting comfortable when he heard a loud thud followed by a faint groan.

                “Oh, ow ….”

                “ _That_ didn’t sound good.” Alistair pushed himself up again, tossed the controller onto his chair and headed out the door. In the hall, he saw another bookcase; this one leaned awkwardly in the corner formed by the wall and the vacant apartment’s door frame. He couldn’t see whoever had been carrying it; they were pinned on the other side. He _could_ make out a stream of muffled curses, including a few that sounded suspiciously like qunlat. “You OK?” he called out.

                “Of _course_ I am. I’m trying to move _everything_ I own into an apartment by _myself._ I just cut my freaking arm on a nail and _now_ I’m stuck behind this damned bookshelf. I’m just peachy keen; never been better.”

                He couldn’t stop the slight smirk that pulled at his lips. Whoever this person was, they managed to retain a sense of humor despite being trapped. “Here, let me help.” He reached for the bookshelf, took hold and started pulling it away from the corner, attempting to get it upright. “How’s the arm? Need a band-aid or something?” He heard a noise that was suspiciously like a chuckle followed by a few grunts as the person on the other side helped push it away.

                “Thanks for that.” A groan followed the now-unmuffled voice as a young woman stepped out into the open. “I didn’t particularly relish the idea of spending the rest of my life back there.”

                “Why in the Maker’s name are you moving all this stuff alone?” He looked over his shoulder at the door leading outside, then back at the bookcase, and finally back at her. He tried to be discrete as he took in her features, not wanting to seem rude.

                She was tall … almost as tall as he was; she was maybe just an inch or two shorter. Red hair was mostly pulled into a drooping ponytail, bangs and stray strands plastered to her head by sweat. Her blue t-shirt was soaked with sweat, but still hung loosely, like it was a size or two too big. Her jeans were streaked with dust or dirt – he didn’t know which, and one knee had a rip in it, but he wasn’t sure if she bought them that way or not. Her sneakers were well worn, but they looked like they had been expensive.

                “Not by choice, trust me.” She reached up to rub her shoulder and back of her neck, eyes fluttering closed briefly. “I was _supposed_ to have a bunch of people helping, but two were total no-shows. My darling brother got called out of town on a business trip, so he left before the truck even got loaded. And three claimed they had to leave as soon as the truck was packed up. She stretched her arms over her head, groaning as several joints popped. “So that left me to do this solo.”

                “Well, that wasn’t very nice of them.” He tried his best not to stare as she stretched; he didn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable. “Why not wait to finish unloading tomorrow? Or can they not help then, either?” When she shook her head, he frowned, tested the weight of the bookcase. “Why not let me help you then? Don’t want you to get stuck again.” He tried not to act too nervous as intelligent green eyes looked him over.

                She smiled slightly, noting that the at least _looked_ like he would be able to help with the big things. And it wasn’t like anyone else was likely to help. It didn’t hurt that he wasn’t bad to look at. His hair wasn’t as red as hers, closer to maybe strawberry blonde, heavy on the strawberry … but she would certainly classify him as what her mother would refer to as a ginger. His eyes were kind, looked to be two different colors – mostly brown with flecks of green. Slightly taller than her, he was wearing a pair of loose-fitting jeans, sneakers and a plain gray t-shirt that fit snugly without being obscenely tight.

                “Yes, getting stuck again _would_ put a damper on my day.” She motioned for him to grab an end of the bookcase, tilting it forward until they could both get a good grip. “Let’s get this bastard inside, then.” She led the way with Alistair following behind, trying to hide the fact that he was impressed with what he’d seen of her so far.

                Not too far inside, she instructed him to set his end down and shoved her end up until it was standing again. “Stupid shelf.” She wiped her forehead with her forearm, leaving a faint smear of blood behind.

                “You … um, you’re still bleeding,” Alistair pointed out. He frowned, glancing at her arm. It didn’t look _too_ bad; it was hardly bleeding at this point, at least. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. “Here, let me ….” He reached out, gingerly wiping the sweat and blood from her forehead. “So, why can’t you wait ‘til tomorrow?”

                “Don’t have the money for another day’s rental on the truck.” She shrugged slightly, doing her best to watch his hands as he cleaned her face. She glanced down at her arm, glad to see that the bleeding had pretty much stopped; at least she wouldn’t have to bandage it up. “Most of the money I have access to when toward the deposit on this place, plus all the rent and fees and utilities that come with it. I _have_ to get this thing unloaded and back to the depot before they close.” She sighed, twisting to stretch out her back a little more. “ _Then_ , I have to pick up Jasper before he’s locked up for another night, and I can’t do that without my car, which is currently being held hostage at the rental truck depot until I bring this thing back.”

                Leave it to him to lock onto the one thing she _probably_ didn’t want to talk about. “Your … your boyfriend is in jail?” He just couldn’t picture someone like _her_ dating a criminal, but … stranger things had happened.

                She laughed; a sound that made his heart skip a beat. “Andraste’s ass, no,” she replied, eyes dancing as she grinned at him. “Jasper’s my mabari. I kenneled him for the day because the rental place doesn’t allow dogs in their trucks.” She glanced around the room and sighed. All the small things … the boxes and tables and shelves and everything else that one person could move had already been brought in. All that was left was the big stuff – the stuff she _couldn’t_ move alone. “Still willing to help?”

                He smiled, flexed his muscles like the wrestlers on TV did, and laughed. “Of course I’ll help. Don’t want to see you get hurt worse … or trapped again.” He motioned for her to lead the way, doing his best not to look at her ass as he followed. “So what do you have left? And how much time do we have?”

                She stifled a laugh, shaking her head as she passed. “All the really heavy shit. You’re probably going to regret offering to help by the time we’re done, you know.” She hated to admit it, but she was glad he’d offered to help. She’d had enough trouble getting the small things into the apartment. The thought of trying to get the big stuff, the stuff that had taken at least two people to get _into_ the truck, alone was daunting. “Couch, bed, recliner, entertainment center … you know, the _important_ stuff. And we have … about two hours.”

                “Ah, yes. Can’t live without those.” Alistair smirked, climbing into the truck. He took in the size of everything left and sighed. So much for a relaxing afternoon of video games. “Two hours, you say?” He rolled his shoulders, flashed her a grin when she nodded and headed for the nearest piece of furniture. “Well, then, let’s get going.”

                It took a little over an hour to get the rest of the truck unloaded and most of the furniture put in the proper place. Only the bed remained in pieces. “Want some help putting that together?” he asked, gesturing toward the sections of the bed frame. It was on the large side and given her adventure with the bookcase earlier, he could picture it ending badly.

                “Truck’s empty, right?” When he nodded, she sighed. “It would probably be the _smart_ answer to say yes, but … I’m gonna go with not right now.” She grinned and patted his shoulder. “I want to get rid of this truck and get my car … and Jasper … back before I tackle that beast. Thanks so much for your help … um … er ….”

                “Oh!” He looked stunned. He’d been talking to this woman, helping her move and everything, and he never bothered to introduce himself? His uncle would be so disappointed in him. “Sorry. I’m … I’m Alistair. It’s a pleasure to actually meet you.” He bowed dramatically, smiling with satisfaction as he heard _that_ laugh again.

                She didn’t expect that; couldn’t stop the laughter, grinning at the man who had just helped her lug heavy furniture into her new place. “Nice to meet you, Alistair. Thank you _so_ much for your help. I’d never have gotten everything done in time without your help.” She leaned in to kiss his cheek, trying to ignore the warmth in her own. She’d _never_ been this affectionate toward a relative stranger; especially not a _cute_ stranger. She started for the door, wondering what was going through her head, behaving this way.

                “I don’t get to learn your name?” Alistair tried to hide the fact that his face grew warm after the kiss. It was just a friendly gesture after all, wasn’t it? But, he still didn’t know what to call her. That was … that was important, wasn’t it? “We … I mean, we _are_ going to be neighbors, after all.”

                “Didn’t I already …?”

                He shook his head, doing his best not to look amused and failing miserably. “I suppose I could just call you ‘mysterious red-haired woman’”, he teased, more pleased than he should have been when she laughed yet again. “But that _is_ a bit of a mouthful.”

                They paused at his door, both seemingly reluctant to part ways. “Name’s Regan,” she finally replied, tucking a strand of loose hair behind her ear. She knew she had to look a frightful mess and was extremely grateful he hadn’t made any comments about her less than fresh appearance. “Regan Cousland.”

                He reached into his pocket, rooting around for his keys. “It was truly a pleasure, Miss Cousland.” The easy grin on his face fell, replaced by near panic as he began patting all of his pockets _and_ belt loops. “Oh no. Oh no, no, no.” He reached for the doorknob, tried twisting to only to be met by the resistance he’d dreaded. “Blast it all to the void. No, no, no ….”

                “Problem?” Regan asked. She had reached the door to the building, having headed off when he’d turned toward his door; ready to go about the rest of her business when she heard her new friend and neighbor’s near panicked voice … and a locked door rattling.

                “Hmm?” He looked over, shoulders sagging slightly. He was going to end up making a fool of himself in front of his new neighbor. But he had little choice. “Oh, no. Everything’s fine. I was just looking for an excuse to camp out in the apartment manager’s office until Monday. Now, I have it.” He sighed, head falling forward to thump against the door. “Dammit,” he muttered, half-heartedly trying the door one more time.

                She moved to his side, rested a hand on his shoulder and smiled softly. “I have a lockpick set … two, actually. I can probably get you back in before Monday.” His relieved smile made her stomach fill with butterflies briefly and the sudden hug didn’t help matters either.

                “You are a life saver!” He gave her one more squeeze before releasing her and stepping back. When she made no move toward the door, he tilted his head curiously. “So where … um … what are you …. Um, you _do_ have the picks with you, yes?”

                “Not exactly, but still ….” As his face fell again, she hastened to explain. “One set is inside, in _one_ of the mountain of boxes.” She had a vague idea which box her kit was in, but if it was the one she was thinking of, it was buried under about twenty others; it would take quite a while to find. “The other set is in my car, which I will get back once I return the truck.” She watched his face brighten a little and smiled in response. “If you want to ride with me, once I pick up Jasper, we’ll come back and see about getting that door open. Unless you’d rather camp out in the office all weekend?”

                “I’ll consider it my reward for helping you move,” he teased, nearly bounding over to the main door, holding it open for her. He held the door long enough to let her through, then tried sprinting to the driver’s side door of the truck to open _it_ for her as well, but it did him little good. He tugged at the door handle, but found it locked. He groaned as he saw the keys dangling from her finger, a teasing smile on her face.

                “Not your day for locked doors, is it?” She winked, unlocked the door, then stepped back, allowing him to play the role he’d originally wanted, for the time being. Once seated, she watched him close the door. She had to wonder …. There weren’t too many men she in her life that were this … _nice_. It was a change; one she wasn’t entirely sure she should let herself get used to.

                He was surprised when she allowed him to open and hold the truck door. When he realized what she was doing, he bowed with an exaggerated flourish, watched to make sure he didn’t catch anything in the door when he closed it, and ran to the passenger side, hopping in effortlessly. A small part of him wondered if he was making a mistake; he read all the time about people being kidnapped or killed by getting into cars with strangers, and here he was doing just that. But she seemed nice enough, and she’d had ample time already to do something to him … and she hadn’t.

                They chatted about little things all the way to the truck depot. He learned that she moved to Denerim from Highever, she loved the color purple – the actual color, not the movie; she was careful to make that clarification, and her favorite food was pizza with olives and extra cheese. She learned that he had grown up in Redcliff and Denerim – his earlier years were spent in Redcliff, teenage and beyond in Denerim. She learned that he enjoyed pick-up games in the nearby park, but hadn’t played in a while since most of his basketball friends had moved away, and that he enjoyed video games. He’d been hesitant to mention that last one; it could be considered … embarrassing if mentioned to a certain type of person, but she actually seemed rather pleased with that fact.

                It took almost no time to switch vehicles at the rental depot. Alistair had intended on waiting by the truck, but she practically dragged him in with her. Once inside, he saw why. It wasn’t until they were outside again that she relaxed.

                “Thanks for coming in with me. When I picked up the truck, the guy kinda gave me the creeps.” She shook her head as she led Alistair to her car. “As much as I hate to say it, I felt safer with you along since Jasper isn’t here. So … thank you for playing along.”

                Alistair nodded, silently wishing his ears would return to their proper temperature. When she’d put her arm over his shoulder and referred to him as her boyfriend, he hadn’t exactly known what to do. He’d simply done his best to follow her lead; he’d wrapped an arm around her waist and smiled, called her some stupid pet name that she would probably flog him for later, and kissed her cheek. “No problem,” he assured her, changing the subject before he could somehow say something embarrassing. “Nice car.”

                It wasn’t exactly a car, really. It reminded him of one of those sort of … cross-over vehicles that wanted to be an SUV but was too small. It was a rather inconspicuous grey color with an ‘I heart my mabari’ sticker on one side of the window and a ‘Go Grey Wardens!’ team sticker on the other, slightly faded from exposure. Four doors, a decent size rear storage area, comfortable seats …. If it wasn’t for the fact that he absolutely loved his car, he’d almost be a little jealous.

                “Thanks.” She half-smiled as she pulled his door open. Alistair moved forward, thinking that she was holding his door for him, but froze when he realized she wasn’t getting out of the way. Instead, she leaned in to pull a large blanket from the seat and unfasten a harness from the shoulder belt. “Sorry. Jas usually rides in the front, but I think I can make an exception, this time.” She motioned for him to climb in, moving to the back door to lay out the canine supplies. She darted to the driver’s side and quickly slid into her seat. Sounds of electric guitars and screeching singers filled the car when she turned the key. “Hope you don’t mind hair metal?”

                “Works for me.” He grinned as she put all the windows down and pulled out of the parking lot. “Not _quite_ what I pictured you listening to, but I’m good with this.”

                “And just what kind of music did you _think_ I’d listen to?” She glanced over at him with an amused smile. She was well aware people found her … odd when it came to her taste in music. She’d just stopped caring long ago.

                He flushed slightly, momentarily worried he’d offended her somehow. But she _smiled_ at him! That had to mean she wasn’t _mad_ , right? “I … um, actually … I’m not sure. But it wasn’t _this_.”

                Thankfully, she let him slide, and they played a few rounds of ‘name that song’, with Alistair quite pleased to find himself holding his own as they drove to the kennel. Her music tastes seemed to cover a wide spectrum and he found himself keeping a mental list of songs he wanted to download. The time spent not naming songs was filled with more get-to-know-you conversations. She learned that he had a near unhealthy fondness for cheese, a favorite pizza joint that he just _had_ to introduce her to – they _know_ what they’re doing when you ask for extra cheese after all, and that he worked at the local mall as a security guard. He learned that she loved to draw, could _not_ sing to save her life – and was well aware of this fact; she had no problem with friendly teasing about it, and she hated having to wear uniforms in high school; her school had required all girls to wear skirts and she despised the things.

                “I don’t know; I bet you’d look good in skirts,” Alistair remarked without thinking. Half a second later, he stammered, trying to recover from possibly offending her and definitely embarrassing himself. “Not, ah … not that … I mean, not that you don’t look good _now_ … in pants, I mean. I’m just going to shut up now.”

                She flushed, felt her cheeks warm at the unexpected compliment, thankful when she finally pulled up to the kennel. “Wait here,” she told him, doing her best not to look him in the eye. She’d smacked guys for making such comments, including her last boyfriend. Why was him saying it so different? “When I get back, let Jasper get a good sniff or two in.” With that final instruction, she disappeared into the office.

                Alistair stood outside the car, leaning on the door, mentally beating himself up for not thinking before he spoke. She had to think he was an idiot … a lecherous, bumbling idiot. He sighed, picturing weeks of awkward run-ins to get mail, or arriving home from work to near bump into her. He’d just have to move, simple as that. He had just about convinced himself to call a cab when he felt a cold nose nudge his hand. He had about two seconds to register the contact when the sensation moved to his crotch. “Gah!”

                Regan laughed, earning a pouting glare from Alistair and a curious look from the large tan dog sniffing at her passenger. “I _told_ you, Jas; you don’t get shotgun this time.” She watched as Alistair tentatively held his hand out, mindful that, no matter the stories of mabari intelligence, they still had _sharp_ teeth. “He’s a _nice_ man. Helped me move all the heavy stuff _and_ helped keep a creepy guy away. You’ll be fine in the back seat this once.” When the dog huffed in argument, she just shrugged. “You can always ride in the trunk if you’d rather.”

                Alistair watched the exchange, keeping as still as possible until Jasper stuck his massive head under his hand. Gingerly stroking along the dog’s fur, he smiled. “Sorry, Jasper. I … didn’t know I was stealing your spot until we were almost here.” It was a slight fib, but one the mabari’s owner didn’t seem interested in disputing. Jasper gave him one last disgruntled look, as if to say “I’m watching you”, then stepped away so Regan could open the door. He bounded into the car with ease and sprawled out, occasionally glaring at the man who had stolen _his_ seat.

                “I think he likes you.” She climbed into the driver’s seat and grinned. “You didn’t lose a hand when you touched him.” Glancing over her shoulder, she backed out of the parking spot, gave Jasper one more comforting smile and sped off, happy to be back in her own, familiar, car.

                They chatted aimlessly for a few minutes before a thought occurred to Alistair. “I didn’t know they allowed pets in our building?” No one else in the building had pets. He knew that didn’t mean they weren’t allowed, but it seemed … odd.

                “It took a _lot_ of effort and even more paperwork,” Regan sighed. She should have known _someone_ would ask, sooner or later. At least the first person to question her four-legged roommate was _him_. She didn’t know why, but she had this feeling that he wouldn’t … push if she only gave him a little information. She just wasn’t comfortable telling anyone, including him, everything yet. “Jasper’s … not exactly a pet,” she explained. “He’s more of a … therapy dog. I … something happened, and I … I have issues in … certain situations that can’t be avoided. Jasper … Jas makes it possible for me to live a somewhat normal life.” She reached back, gave her mabari a quick pat before looking over at Alistair. “I promise, you won’t even know he’s there. He’s … he’s my best friend.”

                Therapy dog? He wondered what had happened that she would need a therapy dog. He knew some blind or deaf people had service animals – usually dogs, though he _had_ met someone with a seeing-eye pig, once. He’d met a few military-types who had therapy animals to help cope with PTSD and other issues, but he couldn’t figure out what might have happened to her that _she_ would need one. However, it was much too soon to ask for any more than she’d already given him. “Well, _I’ll_ know,” he teased, glancing over his shoulder at Jasper. “But I don’t mind keeping it quiet. It’ll be our little secret.”

                Their little secret? The idea made her smile, cheeks turning a little pink. “Thank … thank you.” She glanced over at him, caught his eye and smiled shyly. It wasn’t the same smile she had worn when he helped her lug heavy furniture around – that had been a relieved one. It wasn’t even the same smile she’d worn when pretending she was his girlfriend – that had been obviously overacted. This … this was more … she didn’t even know what it was, but it felt … nice.

                They reached the apartment complex after a bit more lighthearted conversation. “Let’s get your apartment open,” she grinned, pulling a canvas pack from the glove box. She let Jasper out of the car and led the mini-parade back to Alistair’s door. “Shouldn’t take me too long,” she promised, dropping to her knees to peer at the lock.

                Alistair watched, idly running his hand along Jasper’s head and neck. He’d never actually _known_ anyone who could pick locks. It was interesting to watch. “Where’d you learn how to pick locks, anyway?” he blurted out, surprised at himself. “It just … it doesn’t seem like …. Oh, blast it. I’m just going to stop talking now.”

                “It’s OK, Alistair,” Regan laughed, fiddling with her picks in the lock. “It _is_ kind of a strange thing for anyone who’s not a locksmith to know.” She made one last flick of her wrist and the tumblers in the lock fell into place, the door popping open. “My boy … **_ex_** -boyfriend taught me, years ago. He was always getting locked out of his parents’ house, or sneaking in to see me after my folks went to bed. I finally got curious and made him show me how he did it.” She held the door open, expecting Alistair to go in first. He started to, but Jasper bounded in ahead of him, earning light laughter from his owner and a glare from the man he’d nearly knocked over.

                “I guess that’s my cue to invite you in?” He couldn’t stop smiling at her, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry the place is a bit of a mess. I wasn’t really expecting company.” He did a quick look around the room, relieved to see that nothing totally embarrassing was laying out – no smalls, old photos or sappy movies; everything scandalous was nicely hidden away.

                She just shook her head and patted her thigh, calling Jasper over. “Raincheck?” she asked, brushing stray hairs behind her ear. “I’ve monopolized _far_ too much of your time today, between the moving and the driving and everything. I’m sure _someone_ would get jealous if I took any more of your attention.” She smiled shyly, biting her lower lip. She glanced away as she felt her cheeks grow warm, noticing his eyes still on her. “How about Friday; give me a few days to get settled? We can celebrate my first week in Denerim,” she suggested when she noticed his smile start to fade.

                He didn’t know why the possibility of dinner with a relative stranger made him so happy, but it did. “Perfect. I’ll … meet you outside your door? Or, maybe here? I … I could maybe fix us … something after I … get home from work?” He beamed when she agreed, promising to supply popcorn and movies for after dinner, and perhaps during. He bowed, lifted her hand to his lips for the briefest of kisses, and murmured, “It’s a date then,” as she and Jasper walked out the door.

                She turned, watched the door close behind them and smiled. “It’s a date,” she whispered in agreement.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure if I want to continue with this or not. Opinions?


End file.
